markers

Seasonal changes are marked by firsts and lasts. This week is packed full of both.

First calendar day of fall, coming up! (That's an obvious one.)

Last day of wearing shorts -- my go-to outfit all summer long -- is today. (Ed will continue at least until Thanksgiving, or later.)

Is it the last day of breakfast on the porch? It may well be that. With cooler days come cooler mornings. The meditative moment is totally lost on you if you're shivering. Such gratitude I have for a season of porch breakfasts with Ed...

It's probably not the last day of brilliant warm sunshine -- we get our share of fall warmth here and there. Still, it really feels like today is a parting hand wave toward summer. 

Where is the color outside? Right now it's in the tubs, where the annuals will keep on going...

... until the first day of frost. When does that come? This is as speculative as the last day of a spring deep freeze (in May). A killing frost could hit us in early October. Or not. In any case, decisions will have to be made soon: should I overwinter a couple of plants in the farmhouse? It's never a total success. There is not enough sunlight and the plants get spindly and unattractive. But they survive, so that if you can put up with their winter awfulness, you'll get rewarded with an instant rebound come next spring. But which ones should come inside?? To be determined.

There is still the matter of light to think about. If the brightest days of the year are behind us, do we switch to our own hygge practices to cheer up our darkened interiors? Ed doesn't like a lot of light in the house. Predictably, I'm the opposite. I use candles and those are my friends from early fall until spring. This year, I'm considering investing in a lamp that treats seasonal affective disorders. I dont really have a seasonal affective disorder, but I do miss longer days of bright light and the science seems to support the use of these lamps in places like Wisconsin, where the days are way too short for anyone's liking (well, except for Ed, who just doesn't care). But this isn't today's project. Right now, we are reveling in the warmth of this last summer-ish day. A beautiful and fragrant end of a season day.

(a walk in our local park)

In the afternoon  I pick up Snowdrop at school. 

We are in a new fall routine where I get her to the farmhouse, I feed her, and pretty quickly have her get ready for her ballet class (she is back with her Storybook Ballet School -- interrupted for two years because of Covid). 

In the world of dance and especially ballet, the attire rules grow stricter as you move up the class rungs. Oh how well I know this from when my younger daughter danced! For Snowdrop this is a new world of no more frilly tutus or pony tails. It's all about uniform leotards and buns and yes, I get it -- there is value in conforming to this regimen. But it does mean that we have to get started on the task of getting ready earlier... 

... making sure, too, that she arrives in class on time. That as well is a biggie: lateness is frowned upon. 

Attending dance is surely a marker of a receding pandemic, no? One can hope.  

And of course, the evening comes quickly. 

I take out my candle (tomato for today!) and heat up a homemade veggie soup. Markers of the next season. Anticipated, enjoyed.